


Lift Home

by borrowedphrases



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christian Theological Concepts, Ethereal Kissing, Mid-Canon, Other, nearly 6000 Year of Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22749478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/pseuds/borrowedphrases
Summary: Crowley gives Aziraphale a ride home after his little demonic miracle at the church.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Lift Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [planetundersiege](https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetundersiege/gifts).



> So this was written for the [Valentines Day Gift Exchange 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ValentinesDayGiftExchange2020/profile%22), but it's been sitting in the moderation queue with an "Unapproved" status for almost a month and I've decied to just post it on its own without attaching it to the exchange. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, planetundersiege, and I hope you enjoy this little ficlet despite its lateness!
> 
> ###### Story Note:
> 
> Slight canon divergence in that they actually get their shit together and kiss before the Notpocalypse.

The Bently moves like a shadow through the smokey streets. It seems there's always a bit of smoke in the air these days. Nothing like the previous century, mind, but even at its worst the industrial smoke at least meant that humanity was, well, humanity-ing. This war is something else entirely. There's the smell of death mixed up in the air, nothing like that of the 14th century1, it's much more subtle, insidious. The kind of scent you don't really smell until you've breathed it in enough to feel it burning the back of your throat raw. This new smoke, this new scent of death that the 20th century is founding itself on, reminds Crowley a bit too much of The Fall.

He's driving more slowly than usual. If asked, he'd shrug and blame it on the ambiance. Truth of the matter is his feet hurt too much to really push the car to go any faster. Oh he could use his demonic influence to make the car pick up the pace, but there's no real point to that. He's taking his time, the bookshop isn't terribly far away, and he finds he wants to make the trip last.

Has nothing to do with the angel sitting beside him, still clutching his parcel of books close to his chest and practically glowing.

Nope. Nothing at all.

It has absolutely everything to do with the angel, it's just that Crowley can't admit that in his own head. He might end up admitting it out loud, and that would make things just awful.

They arrive at the bookshop much too soon, and Crowley lets the engine idle for a bit. Aziraphale hasn't moved. He hasn't made to get out of the car, hasn't shifted the books to one hand so he can open the door. he hasn't said a word since 'Oh no the books!' and Crowley's fairly certain he hasn't even shifted in his seat the entire drive from what's left of the church. He gives his angel a moment, maybe two, then clears his throat to break the silence, hopeful taking some of the tension he's feeling with it.

"Crowley," Aziraphale begins, after jumping slightly, his voice soft and small, the one he uses when he's building up to something. Crowley doesn't like that voice. Historically it's brought him nothing but heartache and frustration. Aziraphale pauses for a long moment, drawing in a breath he doesn't really need, then shifts, half turning in his seat to better face Crowley.

Crowley wills his completely unnecessary heart to stop beating for a minute, but it doesn't do any good. He can still hear it thundering in his ears.

"I should thank you." Aziraphale continues, almost whispering as he lifts his gaze - eyes that might literally be made from lapis armenus2 \- level with Crowley's shades. "For saving me from inconvenient discorporation, yes, but also for… well, f-for-"

"It's fine, Angel." Crowley cuts him off before he trips his words completely ass over tea kettle. His voice comes out sounding so much like a croak one would think he was once the Frog of Eden instead of a snake.

"It's _not_ fine." Aziraphale's voice is much louder this time, startling them both. He shifts again, wiggling across the Bentley's seat closer toward Crowley, his books still clutched in his lap. "I mean, it is. But it's not. It's not _just_ fine. It's much _more_ than fine and I- Oh to _Hell_ with it."

And then Aziraphale stops talking.

It takes Crowley's an embarrassingly long time to process that Aziraphale has stopped talking because his mouth is otherwise occupied.

With his.

Eventually Crowley's brain catches up.

_"Angel."_ Crowley jerks his head back, smacking it against the driver's side window and cursing Heaven for the divine impulsivity of its angels. His glasses slide down his nose, exposing slits of vulnerability that have gone wide. He stares down the length of his nose at his glowing companion. His adversary. His compatriot. His…

His best friend.

Crowley lets his glasses slide all the way off his nose as he leans forward. He keeps his eyes open as their lips come together again, just to make sure this is real and actually happening. Aziraphale's eye lashes, ones that look as soft and delicate as moth wings, flutter as he closes his eyes. There's that glow again, radiating off the angel with a gentle pulse. Crowley expects it to burn him, like the Pleroma3, like holy ground.

It washes over him, something he hasn't felt since before time was set into motion. It's smooth and sweet like warm honey, like the first milk of spring.

It's _agape_ 4, and it doesn't burn at all.

Crowley finally closes his eyes when his lashes start to dampen, just in time to watch stars being born behind his eyelids.

There's the feel of Aziraphale's impossibly soft hand coming to rest delicately against his cheek, and the sound of precious books thudding against the Bentley's floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, hope it was enjoyable despite being posted late!
> 
> ###### Footnotes:
> 
> **1\. The Black Death** , also known as the Pestilence (Pest for short), the Great Plague or the Plague, or, less commonly, the Black Plague. [return]
> 
> **2\. Lapis armenus** , also known as Armenian stone or lapis stellatus, is a variety of precious stone, resembling lapis lazuli, except that it is softer, and instead of veins of pyrite, is intermixed with green. [return]
> 
> **3\. Pleroma** , in a Christian context, is the perfection of God and the fulness of Her Being. [return]
> 
> **4\. Agape** , within Christianity, is considered to be the love originating from God and the highest level of love known to humanity: unconditional love. [return]


End file.
